His Ring Her Rules

It started with socks.

Tiny, ridiculous socks.

One morning I discovered them on the kitchen counter—soft as clouds, mint green, with cartoon lambs grinning. Not a word. No invoice. Simply... there.

I initially believed that perhaps a delivery had been misdirected or that an overly eager helper had confused "cute" with "corporate." Then Ethan entered, mug in hand, tie half-fastened, and did something completely uncharacteristic.

He grinned. hesitantly.

I held out the sheep socks as if they were evidence in a mystery book and said, "You left them on the counter."

With a shrug, he became eager to stir his coffee. "On Fifth, I went by a baby boutique. I noticed this pair of socks on the window display."

I furrowed my brow. "Mr. Armani Exchange? You? Are you shopping in a store that has cuddly giraffes and continuous lullaby music playing?

There was a glimmer of sheepishness behind those cool gray eyes as he looked up. "I didn't say that I entered voluntarily. "It caught my eye," I said. The socks were just logical.

Suddenly, my heart began to flutter in that annoying way once more. The one I had placed under "emotions that are dangerously misleading."

"Well, thanks, I guess," I said as I put the socks down.

However, it didn't end there.

It was a pair of prenatal vitamins from some ridiculously high-end drugstore in a silk bag the following day. Then, from a spa I could never even pronounce, much less afford, a lavender body balm "for stretch marks."

The book comes next.

Without fanfare, he gave me "The Expectant Father."

"For me," he hurriedly added, massaging the nape of his neck. "To... get ready."

Get ready.

The word became a hallowed presence in the room.

As I turned through pages full of recommendations, infographics, and baby-size comparisons, I muttered, "Wow." "The baby is the size of a lemon at week fourteen."

"Lemons are effective," he said sarcastically.

I fought a smile as I looked at him. "Blackwood Enterprises CEO Ethan Blackwood just referred to his child as efficient?"

I didn't mention "adorable," though. Your department is that.

It nearly made me laugh. Nearly. However, I saw his expression at that moment. Not exactly a bargain. Not like a duty.

similar to a human.

As if a lady were suddenly carrying something that was more than a variable in a business equation.

And even though I didn't yet understand what that meant, I was aware of this:

It was getting harder to keep my walls up when he kept slipping through the cracks like this.

One tiny sock at a time.